


Paperback Writer

by crypticrose



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drabble, HELLA DUMB, M/M, and then hang up, call that number i DARE you, gomen, i have no idea whatll happen, jeanmarco, strange prompt, tell them a joe from the 1950's back when jokes werent offensive, v fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:25:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crypticrose/pseuds/crypticrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes scanned further down the page, until they landed on a line of pencil writing at the bottom. 646-553-6757. A phone number? Who the hell leaves their phone number in a book?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paperback Writer

            Jean let the book slip from his fingers. No. Hell no. Hell fucking no. That could not be the end! If there wasn’t a sequel he swore he was going to set the novel on fire. He pulled the sleeve of his hoodie over his fist and angrily wiped at his tears. He was not going to cry. He was not going to fucking cry. Because no one was dead and that’s all there was to it.

           Shit if only his phone had internet connection. He needed some fanfiction, and bad. The women across the table from him was eyeing him with a mixture of concern and fear. He mustered all the rage he had left, and shot her a watery glare. With an angry sniff he picked the book up again. There had to be a sequel. There fucking had to be. Jean gave the back of the book a quick flip, but it was to no avail. “Fuck” He muttered. “FUCK!” He said a bit louder. The woman across from him took that as her cue to leave.

           He lay his head on the table, and placed the open book on top of it to create a small cave which he could mourn in. Who the hell writes the most amazing romantic sub plot of all time, then just doesn’t fucking follow through. Why the hell would you even want to do that? How the hell can you fucking kill off a living breathing character that you spent years developing in one FUCKING PARAGRAPH. Jean slammed his fist down hard onto the table, slowly letting his hand flatten out to press his palm into the wood. The anger draining out of him. All he was left with was pain.

          He sniffed again, struggling to keep the tears burning at the back of his eyes from falling. Fuck. He should’ve listened when Armin told him not to get attached. Jean took one shaky breath after the other, waiting for the tears to dry, before sitting back up. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the book, laying smugly closed on the table. “Fuck you” he growled, giving his face one last wipe. He decided it was time to find some goddamn wifi, so with a sense of finality he opened the book up one last time, to the front cover, to look at the dedication page. It was an old habit he had. The last thing he always read in a book was the dedication page. He just found that it had more meaning once you understood the story. “To my Daughter.. I miss you more and more with each passing day. I hope you ca-“ Nope. He couldn’t read it without tearing up again. His eyes scanned further down the page, until they landed on a line of pencil writing at the bottom. 646-553-6757. A phone number?? Who the hell leaves their phone number in a book?

          Well Jean figured that there was one completely foolproof way to find out. He copied the number down into his phone and saved the new contact as ”Suspect number 1”. Just to be safe. He stood up then, leaving the book on the table in a final act of defiance, and hurried out of the library.  
                                                                                                                                             ****  
         Saying he was nervous to call the number was an understatement, he was terrified. He sat down on a bench a few blocks away from the library and unlocked his phone again. Fuck it. He hit send and held the phone up to his ear. It was ringing. He almost pissed himself when there was a click, followed by..  
"Hello?"

"…" He completely forgot how to talk.  
  
"Who’s calling?"  
  
"U-um.."  
  
"Nice to meet you ‘um’, I’m dad." He deadpanned. Holy shit.  
  
"Holy shit," There was a bit of giggling on the other end of the line.  
  
"I’m assuming you aren’t calling about my credit card debt."  
  
”..Very funny..”  
  
"I know I am, now can you please answer my question."  
  
"…Question?"  
  
"Yes. If you’d like me to repeat the question, press one now."  
  
"….One" Jesus Christ. This guy was fucking mental Jean concluded.  
  
"Why are you calling?" He asked again.  
  
"Oh.. um this is going to sound crazier then you but-"  
  
"Thaaanks.."  
  
"Would you let me finish!" Fuck he pulled the phone away from his face and hovered his thumb over the ‘End’ button. It was tempting but.. the guy was still talking. He held the phone to his ear again.  
  
"…. and I don’t know you could be some sort of frea-"  
  
"I found your number in a book." Jean rushed out.  
  
”.. You mean like a.. phone.. book..?”  
  
  
"No, like a library book.."  
"….." There was complete silence on his line. Jean was about to ask if he was still there; but before he could the other guy spoke again. "Oh my god.. You’re kidding me!"  
  
"Um.. No I’m completely serious dude."  
  
"I can’t believe you actually called it!"  
  
"Who the hell leaves their number in a book?"  
  
"Me!" He shot back, "Who the hell calls a number in a book?"  
  
"Me!" The other guy giggled at your response.  
  
"So..?"  
  
"So? SO what?"  
  
"So, what did you think of the book!" Oh.  
  
"To be honest, it fucked me up." He giggled again, and Jean couldn’t help but smile. "What about you."  
  
"I felt that the ending was too abrupt for it to be a stand alone novel."  
  
"… Shit right, I spent like.. Ten minutes or something, looking for a sequel!"  
  
"So did I!" He sounded like he was bouncing up and down on the other end, and for all Jean knew, he was. "Did you cry? I did!"  
  
"… No.."  
  
"You totally did!"  
  
"No, fuck that, I totally didn’t!"  
  
"I can hear it in your voice, don’t try to deny it."  
  
"Shit, fine, maybe a little."  
  
"Like a baby huh." He asked.  
  
"A baby that fell off a slide." The other guy started laughing again. And so did Jean. His laugh was like a disease, not that he minded much. It was nice to be able to laugh after that book.  
  
"Marco." The other guy said through the aftershocks of giggles.  
  
"…Polo….?"  
  
"No! You idiot, that’s my name!"  
  
"oh. OH.. Jean.” He figured it was only fair to give his name too.  
  
"Jean?"  
  
"Marco?"  
  
They both dissolved into laughter again.  
                                                                                                                                                                 ****  
        Jean didn’t know how long they talked, but he figured it was somewhere in the range of ‘hella long’. It was growing dark when they said their temporary goodbyes, and Jean finally let his thumb hit the ‘End’ button. He stared for a moment at the “Suspect number 1” contact before hitting ‘Edit’. He held his index finger on the name box until the entire line was deleted. Typing in  
”Marco Bott?? Bodt??"  
before hitting save.

**Author's Note:**

> Dont look at me


End file.
